


Calling Home

by The_Cheshire_Cat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Complete, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/The_Cheshire_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock fanfic can’t give a summary without spoiling it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [john_touched_the_butt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=john_touched_the_butt).



John stood in the market gathering the things on the shopping list he and Sherlock had drawn up together. He stared at the tea and then at the list unable to decode Sherlock’s handwriting that had been added before he left. Removing his mobile from his pocket John called Sherlock at the flat. –No answer- John sighed and hung up and grabbed his favorite brand, Sherlock would just have to deal with it. Heading for the checkout- he had had enough of chip and pin machines- and then upon leaving the store he once again tried calling Sherlock.  
-No answer- John figured Sherlock was caught up with the latest case. Pausing on the sidewalk John texted Sherlock, -Got the shopping on my way back- JW.  
John walked up the stairs and opened the door to the flat and called out to Sherlock only to have Mrs. Hudson answer him with concern on her face. “Oh dear, John are you having another break? Should I call the doctors,” she asked him face alight with concern.  
John blinked once then twice before he remembered, Sherlock was gone, dead, and he had been hallucinating again. He sighed and assured Mrs. Hudson he was fine know but just needed rest. Satisfied but still concerned Mrs. Hudson left the flat and left John to himself. Slowly John unpacked the shopping and stored it away with the slight rustle of the bags the only noise throughout the entire flat.  
“I was beginning to think she would never leave,” Spoke Sherlock from the spot he had been sitting in since John had left. The truth was John did not mind the hallucinations because to him they were the only piece of Sherlock he had left. “I have been reviewing the files and the killer in this one is quite obviously the pool boy. Phone Lestrade and repeat what I tell you, and only what I say,” he said barely moving from his spot.  
Of course John did as Sherlock asked repeating everything to Lestrade until he was satisfied and sent out a warrant for arrest. This was the norm now for John, talking with a fiction of his imagination, trying to solve cased on his own, and then at night relieving the sight of Sherlock falling over and over in his dreams. This had become a regular occurrence for the past 6 months and John had decided he would deal with the nightmares so long as his mind would create visions of Sherlock as well.  
A week later John was on his way back from the scene of a double homicide, he had promised Lestrade he would assist on. He knew he had missed something but what? That is why he returned to Baker Street for it was the only place he could see Sherlock, the only place his mind could create the hallucination. Just as he reached for the knob his mobile began to ring, glancing down at the number he could scarcely believe what he saw, -Sherlock Calling-, the screen read. No, John thought to himself, just no. Choosing not to answer he instead opened the door and began climbing the stairs, when a sound gave him a reason to pause, somebody was playing the violin. John was startled because he knew his hallucination could not play, and scared because if his hallucination has in fact evolved to that level they may start to medicate him.  
Opening the door to the flat he saw Sherlock playing the violin by the window, and he sighed. They had gotten worse, part of him had hoped it was Mycroft coming by to bother him about something, the other half hoped it was Mrs. Hudson and she had learned to play. No such luck, now he would be medicated and Sherlock would disappear for good.  
Sherlock stopped playing and turned towards John, “Hello John,” where the only two words that crossed his lips before John had silenced him with a passionate kiss. John had decided in the 10 seconds it took Sherlock to turn around he would make the most of their final moments together. He did not care how strange it would look where someone to walk in on him and the air, He just wanted Sherlock and this was as close as he would get anymore.  
Sherlock just kissed John back not bothering to ask why, instead choosing to make the most of it as well. With the skill of a surgeon John unbuttoned Sherlock’s shirt then removed and unbuttoned his trousers leaving Sherlock in nothing but his pants. Sherlock moaned into Johns kiss something about John having too much clothes on. John broke the kiss and carried Sherlock to the bedroom and laying him on the bed removing his clothes as he climbed back on top of Sherlock.  
Moving his head south John began to place gentle kisses to the already hard member of Sherlock still hidden by his pants. Running his tongue along it pausing to free it from its confines he swallowed it down in one fluid movement. Sherlock bucked his hips up into John’s mouth moaning loudly. John placed his hands on his hips to keep Sherlock down and go as slow as possible; he wanted this to last as long as it could. After 10 minutes of slow torture Sherlock was begging for release which John finally granted him. Sherlock came hard into John’s mouth as he swallowed around him savoring everything Sherlock had to offer. John leaned up and kissed Sherlock again letting him taste himself inside John’s mouth. As they kissed John began to reach into the drawer by his bedside and remove a pair of handcuffs. He placed the handcuffs around Sherlock’s wrist chaining him to the headboard. “You are not going anywhere ever again,” John whispered into Sherlock’s ear.  
John again returned to the drawer this time removing strawberry flavored lube and held it up for Sherlock to see. Taking the lube he placed some on his finger and swirled it around Sherlock’s opening before thrusting his finger in. Sherlock threw his head back and moaned loudly trying to push deeper onto John’s finger but found John was using his other hand to pin him down. Sherlock bit his lip in an attempt not to start begging again, it was bad enough John made him beg once, John added a second finger to stretch Sherlock and he cried out again but still no begging.  
John smiled evilly, “This, Sherlock, this is your punishment for leaving me.” With that John removed his fingers and covered his own member in strawberry lube and thrust part of the way into Sherlock and just stopped, half in half out. John placed both hands on Sherlock’s hips to stop his thrusting and moving. Sherlock pulled against the cuffs trying desperately to get John to move, to do something. John however just looked at Sherlock waiting. Sherlock knew what it would take and cried out for John to move just move.  
That was all it took for John to thrust roughly into Sherlock’s warm hole. John moaned finally feeling Sherlock around him, something he had only realized he had wanted as he watched Sherlock fall. John tried to keep the pace slow and steady at first before being overcome by love and passion. He removed one hand from Sherlock’s waist and moved it to grip Sherlock’s cock tight preventing him from coming. John thrust harder and harder hitting Sherlock’s sweet spot each time until he felt that familiar warmth. Releasing Sherlock’s cock from his grip Sherlock came hard arching his back as best he could and tightening around John. John followed suit coming into Sherlock’s tight recesses.  
Slowly pulling out after a minute John un-cuffed Sherlock and laid down next to him. Sherlock whispered, “Had I know that would be the welcome I would have come home sooner,” into John’s ear before the two of them drifted off to sleep.  
***  
John awoke to an empty bed and still dirty sheets, glancing around him he saw no trace of the man he loved. Closing his eyes John sighed and decided he was far too upset to leave his bed today and resigned himself to go back to sleep. John had nearly fallen back asleep before he heard a shriek come from the kitchen. Recognizing the voice as Mrs. Hudson he threw his robe on and raced into the kitchen only to see Mrs. Hudson standing pale as a ghost starring. Looking where her eyes where fixed he saw Sherlock preparing tea having completely ignored her shriek of terror. John glanced back and forth between Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson before finally asking, “You mean you can see him too?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written For john-touched-the-butt on tumblr


End file.
